


Strictly Speaking

by firehawk05



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Charles in a Wheelchair, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 18:19:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15712530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firehawk05/pseuds/firehawk05
Summary: Written for July 8, 2018 31 days prompt: And the invitation to dance.Set somewhere in the X mansion, but in a modern ish AU.  Erik is around, the school is running.  Charles attempts to stream YouTube over a painfully slow internet connection.  Timeline is over-rated, clearly.  I do what I want.





	Strictly Speaking

Night at last.  He’s finally graded the last essay.  But more importantly, the kids are finally asleep, which should technically mean their dial up internet connection should be a tad faster now.

 

As the anticipatory glee builds, he opens an I\incognito browser and types in a web address.

 

Honestly, even as he builds the tightest mental shields he’s ever had to hold in his life, he wonders at some of his precautions. For instance, he’s not sure why this particular hobby of his always feels like something illicit. Like it should be some sort of embarrassing guilty pleasure.

 

God knows he’s done more perverted things in bed. God knows he’s had some pretty perverted things done to him in bed. Even before that sort of thing became legal. In some states at least.

 

Maybe it's the fluid grace of the professionals that he admires. The way they mould to their partners, as if fused at the hips as they glide across the floor. How pale limbs describe graceful arcs on the ground or even in the air as they twirl and kick their way through the Argentine Tango.

 

How latin dances look a little like sex. But with clothes on.

 

If asked if he knew of a particularly challenging move involving a lithe female dancer bouncing around her partner like a rubber ball before leaping up and wrapping strong thighs around said partner’s waist, he might deny it.

 

Or he might admit to a tiny twinge of jealousy.

 

But only if pressed. At gunpoint.

 

But even that smidgen of spite, fades quickly into admiration for the hours of practice they must have put in.

 

Speaking of hours. Will the page ever load?

 

One day, he’s going to have to talk Erik into running a broadband cable into the mansion.  Because waiting for video to stream over dial-up is going to kill him.

 

An eternity passes.

 

Then finally…

 

The opening music plays tinnily over his laptop speakers, while bronzed, dancers lift their partners effortlessly into the air.  Artfully tousled locks cascade down the backs of the females, barely covering the glittery straps criss-crossing over smooth unblemished skin. Dancers pirouette and sashay seductively across the screen while Charles looks on appreciatively, avidly tracking to their every move.

 

Having watched this particular episode multiple times helps his brain to somewhat ignore the jerky bits where the video pauses to buffer.

 

But It is a very close thing.

 

 

A hand comes down lightly on his shoulder and he jumps a foot.  Or would have jumped a foot if his legs had been working. He looks up into a megawatt of shark-like smirk.  

 

“And here I was worrying it was porn.”  

 

“ERIK.” Charles squeaks breathlessly, as he tries to close his laptop, ears already burning.  “Don’t do that. You’ll give me a heart attack. LET GO of my computer.”

 

“I didn’t know you watched Strictly.  Too.”

 

“I just find it educational and entertaining to watch celebrities, who come from a whole range of different backgrounds learn and then perform a dance. It proves what people can do when they put their minds to it…” Charles manages to gasp out, willing his heart to slow down, then he pauses, thinking.  “What do you mean by … too?”

 

“You heard me the first time.  Before you started to reflexively spew verbiage like a squid squirts ink.”

 

“Oh. Er.” Charles looks down at the figures on the screen and then up again at Erik. The limitless potential for embarrassment wages a pitched battle with the deep desire to have someone else to share the obsession with.

 

“Care … to …. join me?” He stammers out, not quite under his breath.

 

As Erik pulls up a seat next to him. “Thought you’d never ask.”

 

…

 

They both groan in unison when the episode stalls in the fifteen minutes into a very spicy samba routine.

 

“We need broadband.”

 

“Done.”

**Author's Note:**

> Something about the interview where McAvoy mentioned Strictly Come Dancing stuck in my head and resulted, sort of, in this.


End file.
